Chapter Two
Joel
My hands were clammy,and my heart was beating off tempo, but despite my initial anxiety, I found myself looking forward to going back to Portugal. I couldn’t wait for that moment when I stepped off the plane and the dry warmth of the summer weather would hit me. It would definitely make the long flight worthwhile.
My family was expecting me, but I decided to make a stop before driving to my hometown. No doubt my grandmother would gather the immediate family for a welcome dinner, and I needed some time to myself. I wasn't sure I could face them before I had a chance to smell the ocean air and visit one of my favorite spots.
I still remembered the semi-organized chaos of my family dinners in Portugal. I remembered the long table where my great-grandma would sit at one end, Grandma and Granddad at the other, and everybody else randomly gathered in between.
As a child, I liked to sit between any two of my cousins. Being an only child, I wasn't used to sibling confrontation, and my placement between my cousins served a dual purpose, deflecting fights and also pretending that I had brothers and sisters. Not that I minded being an only child. I was very close to my parents, and while the asked-for sibling never materialized, I did enjoy spending time with my cousins.
I didn't realize I'd been lost in my thoughts until the flight attendant told me I could exit the airplane.
I never particularly enjoyed the motions of going through customs and waiting for luggage at the airport, but then again, I didn't know anyone that did. I just wanted to get out of there, pick up the rental car, and head off to the beach.
As soon as I had my stuff, I navigated the crowds of newly arrived travelers in the direction of the car rental counters. I identified the correct one where a bored-looking girl was staring at the computer. She looked up when I approached and immediately smiled at me, clearly happy to have something to do.
“Good morning, how can I help?” she asked in strongly accented English.
“Bom dia, I have a reservation,” I said, placing the car rental confirmation on the counter with my passport and driving license.
“Oh, you’re Portuguese.” She looked surprised.
“Yes, I’m half-Portuguese.”
“Well, your accent is perfect.” She took my documents, continuing to make polite conversation, “So, are you in Portugal on holiday? Visiting family?”
“Yes, I’m visiting my family. Haven’t been back for a while. I’m a little nervous about it, actually,” I replied, wondering why I said that to a stranger.
I observed her squint at the computer screen, look up at me, and look down again with a slightly embarrassed look.
"Is there a problem?"
"Um, I can't seem to find your reservation on the system,” she said.
After a few phone calls, my lovely car rental assistant informed me that my booking had been canceled due to a system error. My options were to come back in a few days or accept a refund.
I was tired and starting to get irritable, so I decided to take my money, wondering if I should just get a taxi home and change my plans for the day. It would be an expensive trip since my hometown was twenty-three kilometers outside of Lisbon and south of the River Tagus.
I checked with the other car rental desks, but with no previous booking, I was still without a car. I realized I had no other option but to take a cab and made my way back toward the arrivals area where the taxi stands would be. I was almost ready to go, but first things first. Before I set off, I picked up a coffee and custard tart to go.
The trip was starting off on the wrong foot, but I remained optimistic, although I was really wondering if a taxi driver would try to take advantage of me by taking a longer route instead of a more direct one, just to earn more money on the fare off a tourist. The car rental assistant had assumed by my looks I wasn’t Portuguese, so I’d have to make sure the taxi driver was aware that I wasn’t just a tourist.
I was thinking too hard when I accidentally ran into a guy, hard enough to knock his suitcase out of his hand.
“Hey, watch where you’re going!” the man said while bending to pick his suitcase up off the ground.
I quickly replied, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you there.”
I helped him by grabbing the bag from where it landed on the ground and held it out to him, and suddenly, he smiled broadly when he looked at me and said, “Joel? Joel, is that you?” I looked at him, and he must have seen the confusion on my face because he continued, “It’s me! Chico, from school. What are you doing here? It’s been a long time. Are you here to see your family?"
It took me a moment to think of who Chico was, and then I had a vague memory that he was one of the kids who went to school with David and me. His real name was Francisco, but we always called him by the diminutive Chico. He, David, and I used to share lunches when we didn’t like what our moms packed for us.
“Hey, Chico, how’s it going?” I asked, giving him a hug. I couldn’t even remember the last time we’d seen each other. “Sim, I’m here to visit my family. How about you? Going on vacation?”
Francisco went on to tell me that he’d just returned from a business trip and was on the way to meet his wife and children waiting for him outside the terminal when I bumped into him.
“Is your granddad picking you up?” he asked.
